


Backseats

by padlockandpastels



Category: Heathers, Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padlockandpastels/pseuds/padlockandpastels
Summary: Chandler picks Duke up after Ram doesn't show up for their date





	

It's nearly ten at night and when Duke was waiting on the curb for Chandler to pick her up.

She glared back at the diner as it begun to rain. The seventeen year old shoved her hands into her pockets. Ram was supposed to be here. He was supposed to meet her here. Hell, Heather had caught a cab up downtown for this and there was no way in hell she was spending another ten bucks to go home after her date blew her off.

With a huff, she glanced back down at her green watch. The screen was clouded with rain drops. Duke winced as yellow headlights fell on her small form.

Dark eyes dragged up, falling on her friend. She stepped over a puddle, marching over to the red Mercedes. Duke collapsed in the passenger seat. It reeked of new car and rain, but she didn't care.

"Jesus, Heather—you're soaking." Chandler sneered at her friend in the leather seat.

"Sorry," she grumbled. Duke pursed her lips, gaze flickering out the window.

With annoyed huff Chandler reached into the back seat—before tossing a red shirt in Duke's lap. "So you don't ruin my seats," the queen bee clarified.

"Thanks." Duke grumbled, mind tired she started to unbutton her shirt, but Heather frantically cleared her throat.

"Jesus, Heather—let me pull into another parking lot or something, unless you want all of Sherwood to see you." The blonde snapped, gripping the steering wheel.

There's a roll of brown eyes and Duke leaned against the glass as Heather pulled into a semi—abandoned parking lot of some closed grocery store. A small handful of cars littered the lot.

With a sigh, Heather climbed over into the back, shirt in hand. Her friend did have a point, unfortunately. The last thing she needed tonight was some idiot from the football team wondering back from his Saturday night hookup and snapping a picture of her taking off her shirt in Heather Chandler's front seat.

"So," The blonde upfront begun. "Why'd Ram ditch your ass?"

The girl pursed her dark lips. "I don't know, Heather. I didn't exactly get the chance to ask." She grumbled, the blouse falling off her shoulders and into the seat.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Chandler's narrowed and annoyed. Duke's tired and frustrated.

"You don't have to be a bitch about it," Chandler huffed, gaze breaking away.

"Whatever." Duke gave an angered huff, stumbling on the buttons of the red collar before attempting to fasten her tie in the dark.

"Ugh—no. It's crooked, you're doing it wrong—move." And with that, Heather Chandler slipped off her red heels and climbed over the seat into the back of the car.

Heather kept her eyes drawn on the leather as her best friend undid the fabric. "Are you blind?" The teen grumbled absentmindedly, tugging the green tie straight.

Silence rung in the air as Chandler trails a red nail down the side of a seam. "Red is so not your color, Duke."

"You're the one who told me to wear it." Her dark gaze flickered up, tone laced with bitterness.

"Listen. Just because you're mad you didn't get to hook up with that wasted mess of a boy doesn't mean you get to take it out on me, Heather—"

"Can you shut up?" Duke nearly yelled, gently shoving the blonde back.

Any trace of surprise on the senior's face suddenly flickered to anger. Pale fingers wrapped around the tie, forcing Duke forward. " _Make me."_

She didn't exactly understand why she thought it would be a good idea to kiss Heather Chandler in that moment. How on earth could that make her situation better? If anything that would just make it worse—

Heather Chandler tasted like cherries and twizzlers. The faint scent of perfume hung around the air and Duke has never noticed it before. Then again, she had never been this close to Heather Chandler before, either.

Her grip on the the green fabric weakened, fingers finding their way to the half buttoned collar before dragging Duke forward.

Duke gave a choked gasp as she fell forward, putting a hand on the side of the seat so she doesn't fall on top her friend. You're literally making out with her and you're calling her your _friend_?

Her short nails tug tugged into the seat as she held herself up. Chandler broke away, breathing hard. "That's one way to do it." She grumbled.

Heather faintly grinned—leaning forward, but she only ran into a pair of hands. Chandler's green eyes were gleaming. "That's cute if you think you're controlling this."

And suddenly, Heather's lips are on her mouth again. Duke held her breath as she felt Chandler press forward. Heather complied until she was pushed up to where she was nearly kneeling on the seat. "What are you doing—" Duke managed to choke out between kisses, her light arms wrapping around the other's neck. They're feverish and frankly —desperate— but either of them seem to care.

Heather's eyes slip down, gently playing with the tie, unloosing and re—doing it. "Be quiet," She whispered gently. The piece of cloth then was tugged off and discarded on the stretch of carpet.

Duke let out a small squeak as she was suddenly shoved back. Her back hit the seat, and when she blinked—Heather's got a leg on either side of her hip. Oh.

"Did you get this flustered with Ram?" Chandler breathed, staring down. Duke's face was burning. "At all those stupid parties where he got you drunk just to drag you off into some guest room to rip your skirt off."

"In my defense—" a finger trailed down Heather's cheek and she has to remember to breathe. "I didn't agree to nearly all those instances."

Chandler's gaze flickered up. "Ram's an asshole." She bluntly stated. "He doesn't deserve you." She leaned down, inches apart. "All he's good for is a winning bet at a Westerberg football game."

Duke doesn't even get to reply before Heather's kissing her goddamn neck. The girl underneath gave a sharp inhale—she could feel Heather fucking smirking. Hands slipped under the untucked blouse and Heather lazily ran her hands down Duke's stomach and sides.

Duke bit her lip gently, mind buzzing. What the hell was she doing? What the hell were they doing?

Chandler shifted down from where she'd positioned herself straddling Duke's waist. The blonde lifted her head slightly, curls resting on her pale shoulders. She gave a kiss below the shorter teen's jaw before pulling back, staring down at the girl.

It's those few moments of silence as they both stare at each other, mouths slightly agape that Duke realized maybe she should say something.

" _Fuck_." Is the first thing that came out. Chandler can't help the snicker that escaped her red lips, a bold offset from her calm and cold appearance. And it's suddenly a full laugh. Heather leaned forward, gentle giggles tumbling out of her mouth.

Duke doesn't move as the girl on top of her laughed. Movements uncomfortable, new and unknowing, her hands fell on Chandler's waist and apparently it's enough to snap her girlf—she didn't even know what title worked now, out of it. She offered a smile. Not a smirk. Not a 'oh my god you're dead on monday' smile. Just. A smile. Almost endearing.

"Heather?" Duke breathed.

"Hm?" The demon leaned down, snagging a quick kiss from the other before hovering a few inches above her.

"What?" Duke cleared her throat. "What is this?" Given the look she got as a reply, Chandler was taken back.

"I mean—" The dark haired girl choked out, grip on other's hips tightening. "We. What are we?"

"What do you want to be?" Green eyes trailed down, absentminded.

"Just—" Duke pursed her lips. "Do...do you just want this to be a one time thing. Or like—"

Chandler snickered again, but didn't get the chance to respond yet.

"Stop it." Duke blurted out suddenly. Heather stalled. "Don't—don't laugh at me, i'm serious." She breathed. "I just—Heather i've liked you forever don't. . .don't mock me." Her voice wavered with unknown confidence and emotion and then suddenly there's a hand on her cheek.

"Hey," There was a gentleness in Chandler's tone. "I'm not.." She looked away. "I'm not mocking you. I'm not making fun of this. You just get so flustered, it's cute." She bit back a smile. "And to answer," She pulled back, hands on either side of the teen. "No. I guess I don't want this to be a one time thing. Do you want to see where it leads?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"You brought it up first."

"I'm not the one who sounds like air supply."

"Shut up, Heather. Just say yes or no."

"Do you seriously have to ask?" Chandler let out a sharp gasp as the girl below dragged her forward to meet her lips.

There gentle at first. With little force and small sighs. Then—Chandler's pushed forward. Minutes passed by before Duke's breathing was labored and her words are half stuck in her throat as Heathers' kissing up her neck and collar, a pale hand up Duke's shirt.

A whine escaped Heather Duke's mouth as Chandler bit down on her neck. She pursed her lips, realizing whatever Heather was doing would most likely leave a mark.

She gave a shaky sigh as Heather's free hand slid up to rest on her hip, hovering over the waistband of her ruffled skirt.

Heather smiled against the shorter girl's skin as the hand under Duke's shirt pulled back, undoing the last remaining buttons of the red shirt.

The blonde reeled faintly as she got a glance of permission before unzipping the side of the green Heather's skirt. Which soon was tugged down past Duke's knee highs before the fabric ended up on the carpet of the vehicle. Quick, quick, quick.

Duke got her bearings, dark gaze flickering up with a faint smile. "Overdressed much?"

Chandler gave a lazy shrug. "It isn't coming off itself." she shifted a few inches.

With a small groan of discomfort Heather managed to sit up, practically bare back resting against the door. The clique leader fell back towards her, nearly pressed against Duke.

"God, Chan." Duke breathed before she dragged her closer for a kiss. Arms snaked closer, half-hazardously undoing the buttons on the taller teen's shirt. Brown eyes trailed down, Duke's breath caught in her throat.

There was a thin finger on her chin, lifting her face up. "It's not nice to stare." Chandler mumbled, eyes gleaming.

Duke went red in the darkness of the backseat as Chandler's hand fell—fell to the front of her hip, pressing her back.

Heather's red lips were suddenly against her's again. The palm inched down, down, down until Duke suddenly gave a small groan against the kiss as Chandler pressed a hand against the fabric.

She could practically feel Chandler smiling against her in amusement. "Worked up much?" She teased.

"Shut up—" Her words faded off as Chandler's fingers pressed forward suddenly, touching Heather through her panties. Duke broke the kiss, head resting against the cold window that sat behind her body.

Chandler didn't stutter, lips switching down to the teen's lower neck and collar instead. Heather's arm went down, fingers working against the growingly damp fabric.

Duke let out a small moan despite her best efforts, hand coming up to Chandler's hair, trying to grab onto her. She gave a gentle tug, breathing uneven. The action caused Chandler to give a small whine in response. Before Duke could register what she had done, Chandler had inched her hand up, slipping it into Heather's underwear.

Her hips jerked slightly at that. Too slowly for Duke's liking, Chandler pressed a thumb against her clit.

The dark haired girl gave a sharp inhale as Chandler traced circles. Horribly light—barely even brushing. Her brown eyes opened, mustering the strongest glare she could give the red Heather at the moment.

She only met a grin.

"Can you not teas—" Duke choked as the blonde pressed a finger into her. _Fuck_. The leader of the yearbook bit her lip, breathing caught.

Minutes passed again—until Duke was breathing out of her mouth, desperately bucking her hips in a pathetic attempt for something. Anything. As Chandler moved tragically slow, more like torture than teasing. "Heather," She hissed under her choked gasps.

Chandler swallowed, shifting her poison so she only straddled one of her girlfriend's (girlfriend?) legs. The Queen Bee ground down letting out a breathy sigh—before nearly slipping off the seat. Duke laughed at that.

"Shut up Heather." She huffed while straightening herself out, cheeks pink. She pulled her hand away, much to the girl in front of hers' dismay.

"Make me." Duke couldn't help the meek smirk that tugged at her lips. Chandler was taken back by the quote from mere, what—15 minutes ago? 20?

"Oh I will," Chandler gave a light hum, green eyes scanning down as Duke's face heated up. Her words are quiet—practically next to the green Heathers' ear.

"Later." The weight shifted—gone all too soon, Heather was sitting on the center console, crimson blazer lazily hanging off shoulders. Her eyes seemed to gleam in the dimmed light.

"What?" Duke groaned, shifting up. A mess. Nearly undressed, parts of her clothing littering the rugs. _"No, Chan_ —"

She put on a expression of fake mockery, stained red lips agape. "At a sleepover. It's past curfew, any who. I'm assuming you'd want to spend the night?"

"You better drive fast."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to feel abt this I wrote it on my phone I'm sorry,,


End file.
